


Oh Darkness, Embrace Me

by HadenXCharm



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Demons, Falling In Love, Kidnapping, M/M, Wings, incubus, sue me, yes another pointless fic that barely has a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-15 07:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HadenXCharm/pseuds/HadenXCharm
Summary: Ichigo lives in a superstitious village plagued by demons — creatures of the night who creep in windows and attack sleeping women and leave them with child. He's got no reason to worry.Incubi aren't often known to visit boys.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello yes i really wrote this trash trope au, enjoy it, thank you goodbye

Ichigo’s family lives in a very puritanical village, and as such, he’s grown up with people warning him about the forces of the dark.

As a boy, he’d been warned not to go into the woods after dark, not to stray from the village, and to dream good dreams. Ever since he’s become a young man though, it’s been more along the lines of — good boys do not sit next to girls before they are husbands; good boys do not kiss a woman before they are married. It's not like it's particularly hard to obey, but that's what makes Ichigo different. 

He’s known since he was very young that he had a secret he could never tell another soul. He can never tell anyone that it isn’t a girl he wants to sit next to, holds hands with, kiss, _embrace,_ it is not a woman’s touch he yearns for — and as such, he is doomed to live out his life alone and unmarried.

It was a fine line to walk, because he had to appear like every other boy around him, a young pent-up creature just barely holding himself back. He couldn’t appear _too_ uninterested, or people thought him strange.  
  


A good boy isn’t alone with a girl, a good boy doesn’t touch a girl, or think about her undressed — but a bad boy, a _really_ bad boy thinks of other boys undressed.  
  


As Ichigo grew, the advice he received to keep safe from the dark entities lurking in the woods changed to admonishment to always sleep with his hands above the covers — think pure thoughts or the women of the night will come and suck out your soul and steal you away.

He’s always been a skeptical child, and had brushed it off as adults trying to scare him. As an adult, he brushes it off as other adults trying to keep him from masturbating. There’s no such thing as a ‘woman of the night.’

Now that he’s mostly grown, thankfully it had mostly stopped, even though his father had died and he’s his sisters' lone caretaker. Ichigo’s kind of a stern person, and didn’t abide being given that kind of ridiculous advice. He doesn’t let anyone come peddle that nonsense around his sisters either.

Usually it’s easy enough to avoid, but lately there’s been a rash of girls turning up pregnant and disgraced, and the town is in a tense buzz, everyone eyeing one another distrustfully. There’s an incubus about, they say, coming in by night and leaving his children behind.

Ichigo doesn’t believe in that kind of thing, but he still goes to bed with his knife nearby and worries about his sisters a lot, lying awake and listening for the slightest sound out of place. He doesn’t think there’s an incubus, but he does worry about a night prowler, some creepy guy breaking into houses — and he’s not going to let anyone attack _his_ sisters, that’s for sure! He’s instructed them both to scream bloody murder if anyone comes in, and fully intends to come take that guy outside and show him he’d come to the _wrong fucking house._  
  
  


      He doesn’t know exactly when he started having the dreams.  
  
  


Maybe it was bound to happen, after being told so many times and for so long, _think pure thoughts, don’t taint your heart with lust —_ maybe it’s what comes of being alone for so long, because despite the strict upbringing, most boys his age have had a secret paramour or two by now — but Ichigo has always been alone, can never speak on the true object of his desire. Maybe that’s why it’s happening now, his mind finally crying out for release after being kept so tightly contained for this long.  

In any case, the dreams come, drape over him like a blanket.

It starts ordinary enough; he’s laying asleep in his bed, tucked in cozily. Everything’s warm and hazy, someone lifts the covers and gets into bed with him, and Ichigo knows him at once and embraces him, and they kiss. They kiss and touch and when Ichigo wakes up in the morning light, he’s alone, but he finds he’s wet the blankets with his desire.

It happens again and again, whether or not he sleeps with his hands above the covers — once, finally, when he wakes up damp, Ichigo pulls the blankets back up and slips his hands underneath. He fantasizes until he can imagine his dream lover perfectly again, and he touches himself until he spills in his hand.

He doesn’t feel ashamed when he pulls his hand back and sees his seed there. He should, maybe, but he doesn’t feel dirty when he washes himself and sits down for breakfast with his sisters like nothing was amiss. He doesn’t feel wrong for his impure thoughts and doesn’t fear damnation for his indulgence — just as long as no one ever knows.  
  


    That night, someone really does come to him.


	2. Chapter 2

     Ichigo’s not quite asleep when it happens.

 

His room has always been dark, so pitch dark when the door is shut that he needs a candle to see at all, and once it’s put out, he is enclosed in darkness so complete that his eyes can never adjust. The window is curtained and lets through only the faintest glow if the moon is full.

So when it happens, all the warning he receives is a whisper, as though the curtains gracing the window have been moved by a gust of wind, and then that same warm and hazy feeling happens, leaking through him.

This time, the blankets really do lift up, but he doesn’t feel alarmed, doesn’t shout. His lips part as someone, warm and pliant and completely bare, gets into bed with him, melts against him without hesitation. At the feeling of their flesh on his, Ichigo’s body instantly reacts, and though he felt a moment of uncertainty _— good boys stay pure until their wedding night —_  his visitor doesn’t pull back, doesn't shy away from the immediate jutting of Ichigo’s desire between their bodies, and then there’s pleasure, so nice and so good that Ichigo sighs aloud.

He doesn’t know who has come to him, so eager, wrapping them together in the dark. Ichigo can’t see a thing, never hears a voice the whole night through, but he feels hair brushing past his face, long and silky, and he feels warm lips again and again as they kiss.

Despite no sound or sight, this body is every one of his dark secret desires: the jaw is hard and sharp, the body firm and plush with muscle, strong and passionate — _masculine._   

_  
_ _And burning for him._

   
Maybe he drifted off at some point in a blissful daze, but the next thing he knows, the light of the dawn shines into the room, and when he wakes to a chilled and empty bed, he is no longer a virgin.

  
  
        Woman of the night indeed. 


	3. Chapter 3

      This goes on for some time.

 

Ichigo doesn’t tell a soul about his nightly lover, because it would mean the end of his life in any number of ways, but each evening that he climbs into bed, he waits with anticipation.

He waits so long that he always drifts off until he’s just barely awake, and that is when his lover comes.

He’s vaguely aware that he should be afraid, whether it be a stranger climbing into his room each night, or a dark presence come to suck his soul away. He should be scared, because this must be a devil here to drag him to hell for his lustful desires, but he’s not. Ichigo is in bliss.

His night-love is tender, he’s romantic and full of passion — when they kiss, when his lover’s hands touch his face, he’s gentle, and Ichigo isn’t afraid.

He never sees his face, but each night he’s there, he slips into bed with Ichigo and loves him all night long.

Ichigo's a simple farmer’s son, and as such, he has a long day of work in the fields each day to think, to wonder, to imagine his lover’s face. He’s heard stories like this as a kid, a fairytale where a prince is visited each night by a fairy woman who comes and lies with him until morning. He’s heard stories of the succubus, come to suck out men’s souls as they lay sleeping, feeding on their lust.

He doesn’t care much which has chosen to visit him.

Struck with insatiable curiosity, Ichigo does begin to wonder, as all young men living out those cautionary tales do.  


_Who is it that comes to my bed each night?_ _What is their name? Where do they come from? Could I catch a glimpse of their face?_    


Ichigo is not so very different from any other boy in that way, because he wonders too, and eventually decides that he’s going to try to speak to his visitor next time he comes.

He tries and tries for a few nights, but he usually forgets, yields to passion once he’s kissed, once they start to touch and embrace each other — “Who are you?” Ichigo whispers to him, night after night. “What’s your name?”

The first time he asks, there’s a moment of hesitation from the one in his arms, and Ichigo doesn’t know why, but it’s the first time the mystery man has done anything so human, it’s the first time this whole thing feels _real —_ but there’s no answer other than a warm kiss a moment later.

It gets harder then, because after that night, he starts showing Ichigo more personality, makes Ichigo even more curious when he holds them together after they’re through, side by side, running his hand up and down the length of his spine and breathing in his ear, just holding him there so their hearts beat together — or when he clasps their hands together in the heat of passion, fingers sliding through easily from sweat, then kisses their linked knuckles, holds them to the bed — or the tip of their noses brushing, the slightest breath that will reveal a laugh, the subtle sound of a smile.  


It only made Ichigo want to see him, hear his voice, be close to him; it only makes him want him even more. It’s unbearable.  


Night after night, he tries again and again, whispers to him, “Please, I want to know you. Tell me who you are.” His lover slowly cups his face in his hands and guides him into a kiss, and Ichigo forgets, yields, gives up.

“Stay,” he’ll try, and will hold onto him once they’re through making love, he’ll embrace him and press his head to his chest, tries not let him go, but his lover is never there in the morning.

He never sees the morning sun on his skin, never hears so much as a whisper or a sigh from him when they lie together, never has so much as a strand of hair left over to prove to himself that it all isn’t a dream — so when they're together, Ichigo traces the broad line of his lover's shoulders, moves his hands over his face, angled and handsome, tries to see it by feeling, he tries to make the most of their time.

Ichigo tries to stay awake sometimes as they hold each other in the afterwards, warm and bare together between the sheets, those moments in which his lover will show some character, an affectionate hand stroking his hair, lips pressing against his head again and again — but Ichigo always drifts off, rocked and comforted to sleep, and by the morning light, his lover is gone.

It’s miserable. The daytime starts becoming a real drag, and his sisters have noticed a difference in him. Perhaps he should be worried that he’s slowly getting his soul sucked out, but it’s not like he’s dying or getting sick. He’s just discouraged.

He doesn’t know if he can say that he’s fallen in love, since he’s never actually laid eye on his lover, doesn’t know his name or the sound of his voice, his favorite food — but it must be something like love. Ichigo doesn’t know what else it could feel like other than this. Wonderful and awful and always on his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

That night, Ichigo is determined to stay awake. He sits up in bed until he’s drowsy, and when his lover comes, Ichigo tries to talk to him.

 

“Will you tell me your name?” he pleads earnestly when his lover climbs in over him as always. He scoots back and feels a warm palm chasing him, fingers skating on his arm. “I… I want to be close to you, but it feels like you’re hiding.”  He lets the hand come inside his, cupping it in his palm.

“My name is Ichigo,” he tells him, trying to prompt him to respond, but he gets no verbal reciprocation — instead, his lover seizes him tightly, scooping him into his arms and treating him with great affection. Ichigo felt his heart swoop just like it always did when the stranger did anything out of the ordinary, showed him another side of himself. He seemed pleased to hear Ichigo’s name at least from the way he was nuzzling at him, cuddling him like he’s something precious.

“Please,” Ichigo begs, turning towards him, where he knows his face is in the darkness. “Won’t you say something to me? Anything.”

A hand guides his own up to the side of his love’s face, a smooth and angled cheek. He feels his head shake ‘no,’ beneath his palm. It’s the first time he’s tried to communicate with Ichigo in return, and it should excite him, but he felt crushing disappointment. Why wouldn’t he speak?

“I want to be with you,” Ichigo tells him, “I want to know you.”

His lover takes his hands in his, so big and warm, and brings them to his chest so Ichigo can feel his beating heart, as though to tell him that they’re already together, they already know one another. Maybe it should be enough, maybe Ichigo should be content to have this much, but he’s not.

He shakes his head. “I want to be together. It’s so hard only being with you at night,” he confesses, pleading in a way no one else would ever see him plead. “Every day, I have to pretend I’m someone else, but I miss you every second. I feel miserable. I want to be together. I wish you were with me...”

A hand runs comfortingly along the side of his face, as if to soothe and wipe tears. Ichigo tips his chin down bitterly even though it’s too dark for his companion to see his face. “I always worry that you might not come. I think that when I come to bed, you won’t be here, and I'll be alone again.” He grits his teeth and lets the comforting embrace close around him, sweet pets to his head and back.    
  


He sniffs and complains wretchedly, “I can’t even see you…”  
 

And just like that, he pulls away, and Ichigo is left cold, reaching out in the darkness. He looks around frantically, crestfallen. He’s been too greedy, too selfish, hadn’t been grateful enough for what he’d been given and now he’s lost it all. Is he coming back?

“Wait!” he called, “Please!. . . I’m sorry, I won’t ask again! I’ll be happy as I am, I won’t ask for more, I promise!”

He sits there, despairing when there comes no answer. His one chance to not live out his days alone, and he’d dashed it.  “Come back,” he whispers, but it cracks coming out. He put his head in his hands.  
  


   “Ichigo.”    

 

He looked up, startled, unable to see anything as he tried to focus on the noise, the low murmur. Nothing else happens for so long after that he thinks he must have imagined it.

“Hello?” he tries. “Are, are you still there?”

He jumps when he eventually feels a teasing tug to his ear, and his hand flies up, claps over it as he whips around, feeling a pinch to his other side. He reached out blindly in the dark, getting a swat to his hair, a tickle up his side, and eventually he’s nabbed in two big and loving arms and pulled into an embrace, rolled into the bed.

Ichigo should be surprised by that, but mostly he’s surprised by the warm laughter shaking the body beneath him, vibrating richly through his chest. Ichigo laughs back a little when his lover starts kissing behind his ear, his neck, still snickering a little, laughing and humming. 

 

     What a beautiful voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for always posting after midnight


	5. Chapter 5

After that, his nightly visitor seems to open up to him more, and their interactions diversify somewhat. The two of them wrestle and play as much as they make love. Ichigo still tries to talk to him, but he’s less disappointed when he doesn’t get a response, because he can tell he’s being listened to at least.

His lover hasn’t so much as moaned aloud before when they make love, but after first speaking his name and laughing with him, after that, he does — hums in his ear, gasps for him, and when they cease and lay together, he pets Ichigo’s head and murmurs, “Ichigo,” this soft and tender thing, and kisses him.

Ichigo found it all even harder than before to wake up alone. His heart aches with loneliness and curiosity during the day. He longs to see the mystery man’s face, hear him speak, know him and be with him in the daylight. He feels he loves him as much as one can love a person they've never seen.

The rumors have not ceased since Ichigo had started receiving nightly visits. In fact, two more girls have been found pregnant, and this dark and ugly thing starts creeping inside of Ichigo. He’s suspected for a while that he’s been lying with a creature of the night.  


Perhaps that’s why he never stays with Ichigo, won’t tell him his name.  


If he’s not some supernatural creature, he could be just any stranger sneaking back to his wife by morning, sneaking back to other houses, to the girls of the village, or to other men — maybe that’s why he doesn’t tell Ichigo who he is, because if he did, he would recognize him.

And if not, if he really is an incubus, a man of the shadows that wrought insatiable lust on his victims, it's not as though he has any real attachment to Ichigo. If he were to stop coming back, Ichigo wouldn't be able to do anything about it, wouldn't be able to find him. Perhaps he wasn’t satisfied with Ichigo, grew bored with him, didn’t want to limit himself to one boy — maybe there was someone fresher, younger, more tasty. Maybe now that Ichigo's lost his appeal, he's looking for someone else, someone pure and untouched, the way he had been before they'd met. 

He never talks to Ichigo — and he knows he  _can_ , he's said his name many many times by now, but he never says another word, no matter how he begs. He never lets him light the fire so they can see each other, no matter how he pleads and complains — he won't explain himself, won't tell him who he is, and he never, never stays.

When Ichigo grows upset and distressed over being refused time and again, his lover always attempts to comfort him, please him, cheer him up by cuddling him and cooing to him, but Ichigo is always left feeling vaguely discontented. It's not enough.

If he would speak aloud, he'd probably tell Ichigo to be happy as they are, be happy that they at least have this much, don't ask for more — it's probably part of the rules, if there are rules, that he can never reveal who he is — but Ichigo is unsatisfied, yearns for reciprocation, wants to know the one he loves. Humans are silly that way.

In those moments of jealousy and sadness, Ichigo doesn’t know what to do, feels  _afraid_ of being abandoned — but no, they have something. He knows they do from the way his hands cup Ichigo’s face, so warm and loving, holding him with such affection. They can't have a conversation, Ichigo can't see his face, but he still loves him, they still know each other — he can feel it.  


Even so, curiosity is a force to be reckoned with, and like many before him, the longing eventually won out.  


When his lover comes to him that night, greeting him with a sweet kiss and a sigh, slow loving hands meeting his skin, Ichigo strikes a match and lights the candle beside his bed.

The glow of the flame illuminates the face and body of the man bearing over him, and he rears back in surprise at being tricked. Ichigo immediately recoils too — and he screams.


	6. Chapter 6

The creature above him was startled, shying away from the light, clearly not having expected it, or for him to start screaming. 

It all happened really fast, but the glimpse he got of the,  _ the monster,  _ caused a sharp twist of dread and disgust in his gut. It cowered back from the light, bringing up a red arm to block its eyes, flashing a clawed hand. Ichigo scrambled back, reaching for his dagger, and kept hollering up a storm. Yellow eyes squinting against the light glint as he falls off the bed, trying to get away, and then the beast disappeared one second to the next, as if it’s melted into the shadows or gone up in a puff of smoke.

The watch comes, eager to investigate the racket he’s made, and in that moment, the  _ thing  _ is there again, it seizes him, snatches him up and hauls him over its hard spiny shoulder, dragging him away from the men who’d come to help him — Ichigo kicks and fights, but it’s useless, he’s like a frog wriggling in a kid’s hand, he's not strong enough to so much as loosen its grip.

He manages to shout one more time and reach a hand out, getting a last glimpse of the horrified faces of the night watch, and then the two of them burst through the window and suddenly they’re in the air, whipping through the tops of the trees.

Ichigo screams as the ground drops out from underneath him, a terrifying feeling of dangling in midair sending nausea rushing through his head. Arrows are shooting past them and Ichigo watches as the torches lining the road, the rooftops of his town, all of it disappears. 

Driven by panic, he kicks and hits the leathery craggy back beneath him, the thick wings working to hold them aloft. Like hell is he going to let this thing kill him and eat him. 

He wears himself out after awhile, since the monster doesn’t drop him no matter how much he writhes or beats his fists on its back. Besides, as they get higher, it gets colder, until his fingers and cheeks are numb — they’re so high up he’s getting really scared, and has to clench his eyes shut and dig his hands in to the monster's horrible body, afraid of falling. It wasn't eating him yet, hasn't let him drop, so he assumes he's safe until they land. It's taking him away to eat, isn't it, to kill him, to suck his soul out. They must be going to the mountainside, where no one’ll be there to hear his dying screams.

Eventually they seem to be coming to a landing, and Ichigo clings on until they’re settled on a rocky outcropping, solid ground in front of the mouth of a cave set into the cliff face. His legs are wobbly beneath him as he is carefully set down, red arms slowly releasing him. Ichigo took a moment there, panting and gasping for breath, body trembling in shock, like a mouse released from the mouth of a panther, so frozen stiff with fear that it was unable to run away for a moment. 

He shivers in his nightclothes, and feels frantically beneath him for a sharp rock, anything — he watches as the creature takes a few steps back from him, standing there and observing him tentatively for a moment, head cocked to the side. Ichigo cowers away, scrambling backwards, sliding on his butt, feet kicking out in front of him to push him back faster. He'd scream, but his throat was tight with fear — he can't even swallow. 

It doesn't go for him right away, probably because it has no worry that its dinner will escape — it just watches him, mouth contorting. Ichigo freezes when the early light glints off of fangs,  _shit, look at those teeth, that's really gonna' hurt—_

Then it turns its horrible face to the light of the dawn and slinks into the cave. It grabs Ichigo by the arm, his leg too when Ichigo tries to pull away, and suddenly, as though electrified, Ichigo begins kicking and fighting again, frantic, vicious, heart pumping overtime as he fought to survive. 

“Let go!” he howled, kicking and clawing as he was dragged in, the skin of his chest and arms and fingertips scraping across the gritty rocky ground. “Get off me! No, _no!"_

He screams and yells, swallowed up in the darkness, hauled along the rough cave floor — oh god, he’s gonna’ die, he’s never going to walk back out again-

Maybe he should be embarrassed, should try to die with dignity, but he keeps screaming and thrashing around even though even if he did get free, he’d never be able to find his way back, could never fight the monster off and escape in the pitch darkness— 

He's so scared he almost starts to cry, he thinks he might wet himself, and he wonders in a blind panic if this is how it ends, if that's how he's gonna' go out, soaked in his own pee and sobbing and pleading for his life in vain while it rips into him.

He hears heavy breathing close to him, feels nails dig into the flesh of his arms, and he  _shrieks,_ freezes up, then thrashes wildly, striking out blindly,  _don't touch him, don't hurt him, he doesn't want to die, let him go—_  
  


       "Oh, for—! _Will you keep it down?! Fuck!”_   
  


He’s so startled that he shuts up. 


	7. Chapter 7

At first, he lies there on his back, propped up on his elbows, heaving for breath in silence. Ichigo narrowed his eyes and stared in front of him into the pitch blackness, his heart pounding, and for a second, déjà vu overtakes him, because he's heard that voice in complete darkness before.

Once he lay still for a few seconds, the grip to his ankle slowly released, smooth fingers sliding off of his foot, which he quickly yanked back, drawing in on himself. The only sound for a few moments was his own heavy breathing, rapid and frightened.

He startled again, flinching back when he heard it again. “Much better,” the voice huffed in annoyance when the echo of his last scream finally died down. “The reverb at my place is really something. _Sheesh,_ you’ve got some lungs. I mean, heh', I already knew that — but geez, you were screamin' like you were gonna' die. Kinda' dramatic.”

“It’s you,” Ichigo whispers, raising a shaking finger as he recognizes the voice, still creeping backwards in the pitch dark and staring around helplessly, trying to pick up on the tiniest glint of light, trying to see _anything._  
  


A second later, his head pops up and he blurts accusingly, “Hey! You can talk!”  


The guy talks again, scoffing, “Yeah? Big deal, I’ve talked to you before.”  
  


_'It is_ _him.'_  
  


Ichigo felt embarrassed suddenly when he put together that this is the guy who’s been creeping into his bed for the past few months, who he’s begged to talk to him, to _please, say his name again, say anything to him,_ the guy he’s opened his legs for and moaned to and who he’s given up his purity to, shared that dark secret with — of course, he'd _known_  that his lover was really a demon since the moment he lit the candle, but he hadn't fully considered what that meant other than the panic of being close to death. He hadn't thought about how horribly he's been betrayed.

He's always known that his lover was a creature of the night, but he had never thought much about it, too convinced that it didn't matter, that they really had something special — but now that he's _seen_... Now that Ichigo's seen him in the light, he realizes it was all a ruse. The man he'd thought he loved, the one he's longed for, he's  been an incubus all along, a gross disgusting monster, waiting for the right moment to eat him. He's been lulling Ichigo into a false sense of security so he could feed off him — he never really cared about him. He's messed with Ichigo's head and made him fall for him. He's been tricked.  


But the jig is up, which is probably why he doesn't care anymore about keeping Ichigo from hearing him speak. It doesn't matter anymore, now that he knows.  


“Barely!” Ichigo shouts defensively. “And why the fuck do you look like that, what the _fuck!”_  


They've done it countless times by now, and Ichigo's sure he would have noticed, um,  _wings_ , horrible craggy spikes, and those insane fingernails? It's part of why he'd freaked out so bad when he'd seen the guy's face in the candlelight — he was kind of a surprise, all red and scary and shit. It's no wonder he'd never wanted Ichigo to see him.  


“Wow, _rude?”_ He actually sounded kind of hurt over that.  


“What the fuck, you’ve- you’ve been,” Ichigo tried, eventually sputtering, “You tricked me! You made me—”

  
He hugged himself, because he feels used and  _soiled_ and disgusting, like bugs are crawling inside him. If he'd known it was a monster, if he'd known it looked like  _that_ , he never would have- never would have let it in his bed, wouldn't have let it  _touch_ him, ravish him — uch, he'd  _kissed its mouth—  
_

The voice, warm and flippant, a ghost of all the nights they’d spent together, suddenly went dark — deep and growly, _scary_ , and Ichigo froze up, the hairs on his neck rising, his heart pounding like a jackrabbit as he felt the monster come closer, heard heavy steps against the stone floor.    “Oh don’t pull that now. _Don’t you dare pull that bullshit now. Don't you fucking dare start talking like I forced myself on you, 'cause it's a goddamn lie.” _

  
He can hear it circling him, scraping the rocks as it went. Ichigo can't breathe, he's so scared, his shoulders drawn up about his ears, tight and frozen.  


There was a pause, as if it had seen him flinch and hadn't meant to frighten him that badly, because the next time it spoke, the voice was begrudgingly gentler, although still frustrated. “You knew damn well what you were doing, letting me into your room. Don’t pretend this mess isn’t your own fault.”  


Ichigo swallowed, taking a shaky breath or two. “What?”  


A groan of aggravation floated past. “The two of us, I've never had that much fun! I liked visiting you so much I came to you every time and spent the whole night at your place! And you, you must've been lonely — you were always so happy to greet me. Things were going so well between us! _Damn_ , they were,” it complained, and Ichigo felt a whisper of the past, the nights they’d rolled together and laughed, the nights he’d imagined the one who held him, the man he loved, kind and fun and playful, still young at heart—

“But you couldn’t be satisfied with that, could you,” it accused. “I tried telling you! Every time you begged me to say my name or speak to you or show you my face, I tried to tell you I couldn’t, to be satisfied with things the way they were — so that I could keep coming back,” it said mournfully, “but you had to go and ruin everything!” A dark growl and then it barked, _“You tricked me!”_

“Hey fuck you, you’re the bad guy here!” Ichigo yelped at the hot breath on his neck, inching back, feeling terribly helpless in the pitch dark on the cold rocky ground, hunted by a predator.

He grit his teeth and spat, “I only wanted you to come back because you made me think you were someone else. You might never had said anything, but you were _lying_ to me." He shudders. "You’re a fucking monster — you snuck in and used me every night, you disgusting-”

“It's your own fault you're unhappy right now. Stupid nosy _foolish_ human, never satisfied with what you're given, you just _had_ to keep prying! So it’s your own damn fault!” it accused. "I _doted_ on you! I did everything I could to please you and it wasn't fucking good enough for you, was it! You're the one who ruined everything, so don't complain about it now!"

“Well I didn’t ask you to take me here!” Ichigo shrieked. “And I never told you to show up in my room!”

“What?..." A surprised pause, and then a scoff echoed around him. "Of course you did! Why do you think I came to your window and no one else’s?” It gets closer then, and Ichigo gulped, he knows he’s being teased, knows it’s going to eat him for real this time.  

“You think I couldn’t smell your desire?" He can feel its fucking breath on his neck, and he shivers, doesn't move an inch, tries not to whimper aloud. "When I came to you in your dreams, you always embraced me, so I knew I was welcome.”

“Wh-what?”

“I only come to certain kinds of young men…” He distinctly hears it lick its chops. Ichigo screws his eyes shut and holds his gut, trembling all over. “... Sweet innocent boys who’ve never known a loving touch,” it hums amusedly, “The ones who don’t think of the village milkmaid at night when I visit their dreams. The ones who see someone like me when they sleep.” There's a small laugh like the one's he's known before, but this one was disappointed and bitter.

"Virgin souls are the tastiest. I was gonna' eat you up right then when I found you, planned to do it when you were giving yourself to me, but when I visited your dreams to see if you would welcome me in... You and I, we're the same..." Ichigo bit his lips, finding it in him to feel embarrassed even in a moment of terror.

"I kept watching your dreams to see if it would change, but even though you would cum in your sleep when I visited, your heart was crying out in loneliness for a lover to embrace... so pure — and then, when I came to you on the first night, you stole my heart away. Why do you think I kept coming back."  


Ichigo feels a soft brush to his cheek then, breath hitting his face, and looks up, clenching his jaw. It’s right in front of him.  


“Come on, Ichigo… Don’t be cold towards me now,” it murmurs, and it really sounds like the first time he’d spoken to Ichigo, warm and loving. A smooth palm traces the side of his head. Ichigo recoils from the touch, heart pounding, shoulders clenching up around his ears, because he can never go back, can never unsee the face of the monster, can never take this feeling of betrayal back out of his gut.

“It’s alright to be frightened,” it soothes. “You’re away from home. You can’t go back. Of course you’re upset… but it’s not so bad!” Ichigo bites his lip at the light touches he can feel on his side, fluttering around him like bats.  “I’ll take responsibility. That's why I took you! You saw my face, but I won't abandon you. I’m gonna' take care of you as my own,” the thing promises.

“I’ve taken you from your home and I know it'll be hard for you — I know humans live in packs, and you're probably sad that you can't be with the other humans anymore, but I promise I’ll do my best to please you — and give you your wish,” it says to him. “. . . The two of us, we’re finally together, like you wanted,” it breathes tenderly.  


  _‘It really is him,’_ flashes through Ichigo’s mind, but at the next touch to his face, he instinctively recoils.       


“That was before I saw what you are!” he shouts, maybe a bit cruelly, but he spit, “Why the hell did you bring me here?! Did you think I _wanted_ to be with something like you? If you were only allowed to keep coming back as long as I didn't see your face, there's a fucking  _reason_ for that — I don't want to fucking be with you, you're _disgusting."_  
  


"It's too late. You saw me," it says in a voice that is small and almost meek with hurt.  


"You were supposed to leave once I did, not drag me out to your  _fucking_ cave!" Ichigo hollers.

"I was supposed to leave and abandon you to the other humans!" it shouts back in frustration, voice going wretched then, "Do you know what happens to humans who see their incubus lover?! Mortals who look upon demons receive a brand on their souls. The ones who don't wither away and die from it, they live out a worthless life. Other humans — they'll ostracize you, they'll feel my mark on your heart and they'll scorn you, even if they don't know why."

It reaches out to him, but Ichigo startles back when he feels the fingertips.  "I didn't want that to happen to you," it whimpers pleadingly. "I had to take you with me."

"I'm not a toy. I'm not going to let you fuck with my head  _anymore_ ," Ichigo growls. "You've already fucking ruined me, so what makes you think I'm gonna' let you take me away from my home for the rest of my life. I have family. I don't want to live in a hole in a rock."

It's quiet for a moment in uncertain consideration. “... Did you really want to stay there?” he wonders hesitantly, and it really is him, it can’t be anybody else, but Ichigo pulls away. “You think they’ll let you come back?!”  


Ichigo got up and started feeling along the wall, one slow stubborn step at a time.  


“What are you doing, you can’t see with those pitiful eyes,” he mumbled uncertainly, and then quieter, pleaded, “Stay…”  


Ichigo stopped, but grit his teeth. “I _begged_ you and you never did. So fuck you, I’m not staying.”

The hell beast doesn’t say anything else, and it’s not like Ichigo can see him, but he seems distinctly hurt, perhaps slinking away and peeking out at him, wounded and sad. Ichigo doesn’t care.

Ostracized by the other humans, huh. That's what he'd feared for so long, it was why he'd kept his true self hidden so fiercely, but now everyone would know, would recoil at the sight of him — would know that he was cursed just by looking at him.

It does sound like a lonely life, unbearably lonely, but it can't be worse than the life he'd been living. 

Anything other than staying here, because Ichigo can't forgive it, can't recover the sting of having made himself that vulnerable, opening himself up so trustingly, wanting so badly to be loved, and then being taken advantage of, lied to, used. To know that the one he'd given his heart to, that they'd never loved him back, that he'd just been a toy, it's too much to bear.  


    He creeps out slowly towards the light of the day.


	8. Chapter 8

It takes Ichigo about a day to go back down the mountainside and through the woods, all the way down the road back into his village.  
  


He starts feeling bad around halfway back, because he'd been so scared, thinking he was gonna’ die that in that mindless state of fear and the ensuing humiliation, he'd said some rash things. Once he starts to cool down and consider the situation more thoroughly, he starts feeling guilty. It's not like the guy had _hurt_ him, other than his pride and his heart.

Maybe he’d been a little unnecessarily mean, calling him ugly and gross so many times — it had really seemed to hurt the guy’s feelings — but Ichigo had felt betrayed, alright? That incubus had tricked him! Ichigo felt so stupid, thinking that… thinking they’d _loved_ each other, and all along, that guy was some hideous monster, probably waiting to eat his heart out or steal his soul.

Even all that mushy stuff the guy had said, telling him that even though demons usually abandon nosy mortals for a new toy, he'd brought him there to take care of him because he was special to him, he _loved_ him —even though he'd said all that, Ichigo can't trust him, can’t open himself up like that again, can’t believe him when he said that he’d fallen in love with him — _‘Why do you think I kept coming back?’  'You and I, we're the same.’_  
  


Maybe that’s what a guy like him got — a bad boy who'd let himself be dirty, who'd given himself over to the darkness. He doesn't get a happy ending, he doesn't get the one he loves to stand at his side. He’s doomed to be alone. People like him aren’t supposed to find happiness — it’s punishment for not being like everyone else, for breaking the rules.  
  


When he trudges home, Karin and Yuzu fuss over him — he probably looks like some wild man, crawled out of the bushes. When they give up on questioning him, they feed him and put him to bed.

He tries to forget, tries to sleep, but no matter how exhausted he is, it’s the first time falling asleep alone in months, and it's hard to drift off, because he can't shake the feeling that he's supposed to stay awake and _wait_ _.    'He's not coming,'_ Ichigo tells himself, and screws his eyes shut to try and fall asleep.  
  


When he does, he dreams of falling into the pit, and when he hits the bottom, he burns.  
  


Then, darkness.  
  


. . .  
  


The other villagers must have found out that he’d returned, because when he wakes, it’s not yet morning, but there’s an orange glow raging outside, like the whole town’s ablaze. Karin is at his shoulder, shaking him. “Ichi-nii,” she says, and her voice trembles like he’s never heard it. “You need to run.”

“What’s going on?”

“You have to go. Go and don’t come back. Hurry.”

He gets up and goes to the front door, rattling on the hinges from being pounded from the outside. He opens it, and he’s seized, wrangled until they can tie his arms together — and the glow gets larger and larger as he shoved along by the crowd out into the open. A massive bonfire, roaring higher than the rooftops, lit to burn him for his sins.  
  


      _'You think they'll let you come back?'_

   
       _'The other humans — they'll feel my mark on your heart and they'll scorn you. I had to take you with me.'_  
  


 

_'Bad boys go to hell. Bad boys burn.'_

 

His heart stutters as he stares up at the blaze, standing there numbly as a man tries to read out the charges over the loud and raucous shouts of the mob — made impure, corrupted by a demon.

“Can’t you just banish me?” and he’s surprised by how steady his voice is; it must be shock. “What if I promise to never come back.” He and the girls, they can find a place, they can build a house in the woods, forage for food, as long as they have each other, as long as they’re all alive — he can’t leave them alone, he has to live. Without him there, what will they do to them, what’s going to happen to them-

“Your life is forfeit. May your damned soul find peace in the flames.” Ichigo stares into the pit, his skin already prickling from the dry heat.

“Unless of course,” Ichigo shuts his eyes, “someone will have mercy and take your place.”

Ichigo steels himself for his moment of death, a violent and painful end on his final trip to hell, just what he deserves — and that’s when he hears screams and feels a sudden gust of wind, a heavy shock through the ground beneath his feet. People are moving back in panic to clear a space.

  


    "I will."  
  


Ichigo blinks, unable to process what he's seeing. It’s the monster, come down from the mountain, wings spread as he lands and then flapping twice until they settle in place on his back, great and dark and featherless, bat-like almost. Ichigo stares at him, and this time, instead of reeling back in horror at the sight of him through the gleam of a single candle, he’s glowing brightly in the hellish roar of the open flames, standing unashamedly bare from head to toe, and Ichigo’s gaze doesn’t shy away in disgust and fear, instead transfixed. 

Lit up like that, licked by the dancing shadows of the fire, the blood-red skin of his bare flesh gleams, and his yellow luminous eyes crackle with rage — he’s horrible and mesmerizing, savagely beautiful, his naked body glowing in the flames, and even if he came from hell, he was made by the gods.

   He holds out his arms for Ichigo.  
  


      “Give him,” he snarls, baring long fangs, _“to me.”_  
  


People were screaming and scrambling around for weapons, but when he spoke, they all stood frozen in shock as though he could kill them on the spot, leaving it quiet enough that the wild snap of the bonfire could be heard at last.

“Ichigo,” he repeats when no one responds to him. “Let him come to me,” he demands, extending his red hands to him.  
  


     The thought fully penetrates — _‘He came back for me.'_

— and Ichigo understands now, why people said these creatures were once thought to be angels, because _look at him_ _,_ sculpted more perfectly than any statue, and he's standing there, ready to save him from the flames— and that's what angels do, isn't it? Come to you in your darkest hour. _  
_

He doesn't take another step, but he keeps holding out his hands, reaching for Ichigo. "Don't waste his life," he says. "Let him go free."  
  


Ichigo’s the one who finally speaks, startling a couple of the men holding him out of their stupor. “You’d take my place?”  

The creature’s eyes settle on him, yellow and glowing bright as the harvest moon. He looks at Ichigo with such singular focus, as if he were the one standing there glowing like the sun with his arms open,  _waiting for him—_

“If they won't let you go otherwise, then yes," he says without hesitation. "But if they'd just give you to me, we'll be on our way…”

“... Sacrifice him to you?” one man said, and a couple of the bolder ones spoke up. “How do we know you won’t come back for another once you take him.”

“The incubus—”

“You’ve been ravaging our town!”

Snorting, as though the idea amused him, the creature reeled back, wings opening a little, causing a few shrieks of surprise. “Hah! What, is this about the fatherless children? You’ve got the wrong guy. Trust me, you’ll know him when you see him — if you can catch him that is.” Ichigo narrowed his eye. The idea of there being more than one of these freaks didn’t sit well.

“All those babies have blue hair, right? I mean, look at this?” He holds up a piece of his own black hair.

“You dare show your face here and expect to be left alive?!”

“Take me then,” he said soberly, face drawn and sinister, half-lit by the flame, eyes glowing out of the darkness, mouth a dark slit broken by wicked teeth. “If that’s the price of his life, I'll go in the fire instead.”

A couple guys shifted uncomfortably, lowering their pitchforks with suspicion, not expecting it to be that easy.

“Burn me to ashes in his place and leave him in peace—” He lifted his head, dark and horrible and warped, a beast of the night, his voice an unearthly growl, “And should anyone harm Kurosaki Ichigo from this day on, I will hunt them to the ends of the earth and drag them to hell.”

When no one moves towards him, whether to stop him or to try to grab him, the beast stalks towards Ichigo, claws digging into the ground, cracking it beneath his feet. Ichigo recoils a tiny bit when he stops in front of him, feeling the heat of the flames radiate from his red skin as if he were right next to the pit.     

He watches two red palms rub together and then slide apart, revealing a piece of paper, glistening with still-wet ink. The glowing yellow eyes meet Ichigo’s, and he speaks to him directly.  
  


“Say you agree. I take your place in the fire, for your soul.”  
  


And a million questions are running through his head — why did he come back, why is he doing this, is he really going to take his place? — but he decides not to scorn a gift, not again.

He can't think straight— can't think of _anything_ other than not wanting to die. Perhaps it's shortsighted to give over his soul to a demon, but Ichigo is not prepared to burn to death. He'll take any escape possible.

“I agree,” Ichigo says, and watches his own name appear on the bottom of the paper next to what must be the incubus’ name, written there in demon runes. The paper burns into ash a moment after.

After a lingering look, he walks towards the bonfire. Ichigo stares at the dark expanse of his back as he stands in front of the roaring flames rising high above his head.

He contains a gasp of surprise as he watches him step into the pile of wood, glowing red with embers, head thrown to the sky, wings hurling open as the flames engulf him, a dark shape against the bright blaze.  
  


And his neighbors, friends from childhood, people he’s known his whole life, they all stand there fascinated, watching him burn alive.


	9. Chapter 9

Ichigo is let go, as promised. He is left alone — quite alone.  
  


No one comes to harass him further, but he is shunned, given a wide berth. Some don’t speak to him at all. He still has a few friends, and his sisters are there, but nothing is quite the same afterwards.

The nights are lonely and cold and he dreams of the man who’d been his lover night after night, stepping into the pit in his place, burning to death in the pillar of fire.    
  


 _'You and me, we're the same. I know you loved me too. Why do you think I kept coming back?’_  
  


          — and he's gone, he's gone forever.

 

Eventually, seeing children run at the sight of him, facing the scorn of his neighbors, going through each day trying not to drown beneath the unbearable sorrow of knowing he's going to live out his life alone, and the pain of missing  _him_ — it’s too much to live with, and Ichigo leaves home.

His sisters are left with his trusted friend, Chad, one of the few who has not turned his back on him since the incident. Once he's sure they'll be taken care of no matter what happens to him, whether he returns or not, he's off.

Ichigo wanders the forest alone. It takes him days to find his way back up the mountainside to the cave, and when he does, he almost expects to find him there, waiting — but he’s not.

He stays there until nightfall and stares out at the stars, looks down at the pinpricks of light from the town far below.  
   
  


     _'I never even knew his name,'_ he thinks, and closes his eyes.

 

“Ichigo,” he hears, and he stands in a flash and whips around, staring as someone comes out of the depths of the cave — a naked man, streaked with ash, stumbling along on wobbling legs, a hand on the rock wall. Ichigo takes a step back, as if to run.

“You came,” he says, and steps after him, holding a hand out. When Ichigo flinches back again, he takes a few more steps towards him, earnest as he tells him, “Don’t run away! Look at what I’ve done for you!”

And Ichigo halts.     “It’s you.” He stares at him, his skin, no longer red as blood but plain and tan, painted with black tribal markings. His hair was wild and red, and so were his eyes, the only remaining signs of his demonhood. Ichigo didn't realize it was him at first, but the voice is the same.  

Looking at him closer, Ichigo does recognize him then, if one can recognize someone they’ve never seen — but after all the times he'd tried to picture his face by running his fingers over his cheekbones and brow, his lips and nose, he thinks it must be him.

“Yes,” he says, seeming to hesitate in approaching any further, maybe having expected Ichigo to be happy to see him. Ichigo puts a foot back and he holds out a hand suddenly, as if to stop him. 

“Don't pull away. I did this for _you._ Don’t you still love me?” He walks up to him, one slow step after another, and Ichigo stays there until they’re only about a foot apart. “You loved me once,” he said uncertainly.

“You’re alive,” Ichigo murmured, slowly putting his hands up to his face, feeling his cheeks beneath his palms in disbelief. He's real, he's warm and soft.

“Of course,” he breathes, eyes fluttering closed for a moment in contentment. “I had to see you again, didn’t I?”

“But how?" Ichigo swallowed. "I watched you burn.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You really think fire’ll kill a child of the darkness?” He scoffed a little, face flushing cherry red for a moment as he smirked with his fangs, showing Ichigo a peek of the underneath. “I was born in the flames, Ichigo."

He felt hands settle onto his hips slowly, around his back, keeping him close, but he didn't retreat. As Ichigo stares, watching his face change back to a plain human beige, he muttered, "Man, I thought humans had figured out that we can't be burnt by now...”

“But then... why didn’t you want me to see you in the light? Before, I mean,” Ichigo mumbled. "When I asked to see your face."

"Oh that? Demon law," he said succinctly. "You can only come and lay with a human lover until they get too greedy," he tells him, then sighing, "and they always do."

"But you came back," Ichigo whispered, still unable to believe that he was alive, he's here, standing before him. 

"Well yeah..." He clears his throat uncomfortably. "I mean... Nosy humans are usually the ones that'll end up trying to tell others or to hunt us, so our options after one of you sees our true face is to either abandon you and let you die, or keep watch over you so you can't cause us trouble, y'know, keep you as a pet— _companion!"_ he amends when Ichigo reels back with an offended scowl. 

He waves a hand then. "But no one really bothers doing that, because you guys are all really similar and get boring quickly, kind of like ants — so a human who sees one of us is almost always doomed." He smiles then, almost bashful about it. "But I got kind of attached to you..." Ichigo scowls, feeling the heat go to his face.

Fingers curl into his side, fondly stroking. "I didn't want to see you suffer, so I tried to tell you to quit asking to see my face, because I wouldn't have been able to see you again unless I took you away with me forever. I thought it would be better to just keep visiting, so you could live normally, but I guess you got too curious. You're human," he shrugs. "You can't help it."

 

Ichigo squints at him, because he follows that explanation, but what he doesn't understand is why he'd saved him from the fire, why he hadn't just let him get what he deserved — especially after saying all those mean things before and leaving. 

“I was horrible to you. I told you I didn't want to see you again. You didn’t have to come save me.”

“I did so,” he countered. A hand rises to cover Ichigo’s and place it against his own cheek. “You and I, we’re together at last… You’re finally mine.” Red-brown eyes meet his, tentative and almost shy in their uncertainty. “I knew when I found you, you’d be my most precious treasure. I can love you until the end of all days. You'll never know a moment's sadness.” Heart fluttering, Ichigo stared into his eyes, as if magnetized. Whispering, he tells him, “I can grant your greatest wish. Your soul is mine, and now you'll never be alone again.”

Ichigo blinks and shakes his head, reeling back. “My soul? What? No.”

“But you signed it,” he said, face falling. “You said yes.”

“Not to that, I didn’t!”

He pulls the contract out of who knows where — out of his ass, probably, shoving it in Ichigo’s face. “Did too!” he blurted. “You’ve given your soul unto my charge, and this agreement is written within the fiber of the universe in our blood.”

“What about me?” Ichigo sputtered, trying to yank back. “What do I get out of this?!”

The incubus’ face, pinched with agitation and worry, teeth bared out of habit even though the fangs were human and blunted now, all of it softens, a fond gleam coming into his eyes. “You’re my special one, of course — and I'll take care of you to the ends of eternity.”

“Take care of me?!”

“Well, your soul’s kind of more attractive now that you’ve become demon property, so you know, I’m gonna’ keep you safe from the others if they come poaching… and I’m gonna’ love you with all the fires of the nine hells, that’s a pretty good perk,” he listed, getting sidetracked, a lovelorn expression coming over his face.

“But you own me?”

“Well, yes,” he admitted, shrugging, hands up, “but you're now the sole object of my desire and I’m basically a slave to your every whim. So who owns who, really.”

“...” Ichigo pursed his lips in uncertainty, because he’s pretty sure he’s really fucked now. But somehow… he's not as upset as he should be.

“Oh Ichigo,” he breathes, drawing closer. “Aren’t you pleased?” he murmured tentatively, not very sure of himself. He looks down at himself with a critical eye, bringing his hands to his chest. “I thought you would be.”

Ichigo chews on his lip. All of this had happened so fast. He'd felt so betrayed before and then he'd come and saved him anyways, and then Ichigo had thought he was gone forever… Is it all really so simple now? Is it too much to hope for?

His companion let out a huff of embarrassment, taking his silence for discontent. “I know humans like the sun, so I thought I’d try a new shape so I can come outside with you more often… You really looked scared when you first saw me, so I figured you’d think I’m more handsome this way, but… did I get something wrong?” He seems really sensitive, wanting so much for Ichigo to accept him, to be pleased with him.

“... Is it the eyebrows?” he murmurs.

Ichigo kept any hysterical reactions like gripping his heart through his shirt at bay, but it’s a close thing.

Sharply, he blurts, “I’m _not_ pleased! So don’t decide things on your own!”

“This is the way things are now, so accept it!” he shouts back, but it's practically a yelp, and he seems abashed, anxious that Ichigo was dissatisfied.

Okay, Ichigo might be able to get used to this. Not before putting up some token resistance of course.

“I don’t want to live in a cave with a stranger anyways!”

“But I'm not-!... Wait, really?” The incubus’ shoulder shoot up at that, and as Ichigo watches him tap his index fingers together, he mutters, “But it’s a nice cave?...”

“I want to go home to my sisters,” he demands, and as if he’s being scolded, the demon scuffs his foot, grinding his jaw back and forth.

“I suppose… But what am I to do in your village? I always figured you'd stay out here and make a home with me, but if you really want to go back...” he tentatively agreed. “Will the humans let me in, do you think?...” He held his arms down and looked down at himself and Ichigo rolled his eyes; he's only ever seen this guy naked.

“As long as you stay at my place. You told them to leave me in peace, so I’m kind of a hermit now. My poor sisters will never find husbands because of you.”

“Ahh Ichigo, you’ll have to teach me how to be a human man. Are you sure I can't just show you how to live in the wilderness with me? I'll make a really soft nest for you…” He frowns anxiously, shifting around when Ichigo was not convinced. “As long as you help me blend in, so I don't cause a panic. I'll be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

“You’d live in a disguise. Forever,” he says, and it’s not a question, but really, it is. Part of him can’t accept it, because it’s been his secret wish for so long — the one he loves, there at his side. It’s been something he’s accepted would be forever out of reach. He can’t quite believe that it’s within his grasp.

The one he loves isn't quite the way he'd always imagined he would be. Even if he was a tremendous sweetheart and a total puppy dog, Ichigo sure hadn't expected to fall for a creature crawled out from the pit of hell — but it doesn't seem to matter as much as it probably should. What Ichigo can't wrap his head around is that he's here, _he's real._   

He'll come with him, pretend to be a human, give up his demon ways, just like that? Just to stay by his side?

“I’d fall on my sword at your command,” he said without a trace of humor, but smiles afterwards, eager and hopeful. 

“Then will you finally tell me your name,” Ichigo challenges, testing the boundaries.

And his face lights up in a brilliant smile, the laugh, that warm rich laugh echoing around them. “That's all? Ichigo, don’t you know your lover by now?”

And once he tells him, Ichigo does know, it's as if he's known all along, and the two of them embrace. They kiss and touch and it’s just like it was before.

“Say it,” he begs, lips pressed against his, “Ichigo, call my name.”

“Renji,” Ichigo murmurs, pleased with the shudder he earns.

This is what it must be like, not to be lonely anymore. Ichigo swallows, finding it hard to speak. “You… you'd really follow me home and live as a human, just like that…?”

  
A man, a dark angel, stepping into the flames without hesitation, a boy welcoming a stranger in as the covers lift—  
  


“Why wouldn't I, if that's where you are?” Renji says, as easy as breathing, as if it were the only choice. Ichigo holds onto him like he's going to disappear again any second.  


This must be what is like, being loved.  


“You… You really… You…” Hands gently trace his face, as if to wipe tears.

“Shhh…”  
  


As the morning sun rises, Renji draws back from him, whispering, “Come into the dark.” Ichigo follows to the edge of the shadow, watching as he changes, the hand held towards him turning dark and red, sharp claws extended.

He steps forward into his embrace, engulfed in the darkness, and when they touch, he’s warm, and Ichigo doesn’t feel any rough skin or claws or spines or wings. He feels his lover as he’s always been — warm and smooth and human.

They make love there, and the light of the dawn does not disturb them.


	10. Chapter 10

It’s not all easy. Having a demon boyfriend, lover, whatever you want to call Renji, it means nothing is fucking easy — it means Ichigo catches Renji causing trouble _a lot._

He acknowledges that on some level it’s probably his own fault, because he forgets that Renji's a demon a lot of the time when he’s wearing his human disguise, even with the weird red hair — he's so _normal_ most of the time. When they’re alone, or when he wants to scare people, Renji will sometimes show his true self, but other than that, he looks like a normal man, and Ichigo forgets. 

He forgets because Renji is so kind to him and his sisters, so devoted and earnest in his desire to please him and make him smile, so loving towards him in the night — Ichigo forgets he’s a child of the dark.

 

Renji’s got tricks, a lot of tricks, and he likes to scare people. Ichigo still doesn’t know the extent of what he can do, but it’s a daily struggle. He’s seen him squatting upside down on the ceiling before, and he disappears sometimes, there one moment and the next not, and is gone all day, although he always returns in the evening to warm his bed. Ichigo’s seen his face change in moments of anger, to this dark and horrible thing. Worse is that he holds grudges that he never lets go of, and he uses them to torture anyone who slights Ichigo, terrorizing them mercilessly.

Ichigo should expect it — he’s a devil after all, so sometimes Renji is malicious, he’s vindictive, he’s _jealous,_ and can’t be taught remorse or shame, but to Ichigo, Renji is tender and caring, and Ichigo loves him too, so he learns to be content.

In any case, Renji’s told him that of his kind, he’s kind of laid-back, so he really doesn’t want to see what the other guys are like.

There are some things he can’t unsee, moments when he suddenly remembers what Renji _is —_ he remembers when he is scorned by the shopkeep, refused service, and the next day, the shopkeep’s cows are all dead, blood sucked dry.

He remembers when he sees Renji lighting candles with the tip of his finger when he thinks the girls aren’t looking, or unhinging his jaw to eat a cut of meat whole, bones and all — or when he bares his teeth at the wolves along the treeline and growls, or circles the house, stands on the roof and stares out into the night sky, watching _someone_  and occasionally daring them to _fucking try it, this is my turf._

He remembers when Renji takes his slightest whim and dedicates himself to satisfying it, remembers when he changes shape before his eyes to try to please him better — _do you like me like this, like this? —_ he remembers when they kiss and sometimes a flake of ash is on Renji’s tongue, dry and pulpy.

But each night that Renji slips into bed with him like they’d used to do in the beginning, each time they lay together afterwards, each night Ichigo wakes up and Renji is there beneath him, still pillowing his head, sleeping against him and very much real — he forgets.


End file.
